


Android Fucker 9000

by sunstrain (uhright)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Choking, Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Dom/sub, Dominant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Flirting, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Mouth Kink, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Shower Sex, Smut, Tie Kink, all the kinks pretty much, submissive Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhright/pseuds/sunstrain
Summary: We're all Thirsty Robot Fuckers™ around here so I thought I would take one for the team and actually out myself as one by writing porn.Alternate summary: a collection of smutty one-shots featuring our fav androids and a fem!reader unless otherwise stated.Feel free to drop requests in the comments!





	1. Epidermis (Deviant!Connor x F!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cyberlife starts installing components inside of androids that allow them to feel and smell and taste, Connor jumps at the opportunity. After he arrives home, you allow him to explore his new updates on your body and things quickly get out of hand in the best way.

“To be honest, I’m still not used to these dermis sensors. And the taste receptors. And…” Connor sighs, plopping down next to you on the couch. “Everything else.”

You glance away from the television and rest a hand on his thigh once you see the yellow flicker of his LED. Even after the androids were freed, he decided to keep it to remind himself of how far he’s come as a person.

“It hasn't even been a day yet,” you assure, rest your cheek on his shoulder and turn back to watch _Across the Void._ “You’re overwhelmed. Just give it time.”

He removes your hand from his thigh and presses the back of it to his lips, his skin now comfortably warm.

As the movie goes on, Connor’s touches become heavier, more confident. More curious. Watching your boyfriend test the waters with his new upgrades makes you smile.

He starts with your hair, takes a strand and rolls it between his fingertips, lifts it to his nose for a brief moment. Then he moves on to your face, brushes first his fingertips then knuckles over your cheek, your lips (you playfully catch one in your teeth and he pulls back with a gasp), your brows. When he uses his lips to press a trail of kisses from your cheekbone down to your shoulder, you clench your fists and allow him to explore despite the growing need to tangle a hand in his hair and kiss him.

But luck is on your side.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks while idly running a finger along your collarbone, and you turn to him with a nod.

You’ve kissed before, of course, having been together for a year, but it’s a whole new experience now that you know _Connor_ can feel it, too.

He rests a hand on the small of your back and slants his mouth over yours, pauses for a moment to embrace the sensation before slipping his tongue between your lips. The kiss is lazy and languid, and by the time you pull away to catch a breath you're halfway in his lap, legs draped over his thighs.

“That… wow. Now I understand why you wanted to kiss me so often.” With pink-tinted cheeks, he beams at you, a relieved smile curling the corners of his lips. “This is helping me process the new sensations, by the way. I don’t feel as overwhelmed.”

So his discomfort was just sensual deprivation. Huh. It made sense, though, needing an outlet for the new code programmed into his system.

“Do you wanna keep going?” you ask, cursing the clear enthusiasm in your voice. He nods, prompting you to continue. “What’s making you the most curious?”

“Everything,” he responds almost immediately, “but I want to start with touching, if that’s alright.”

Before he even finishes his sentence, you stand and begin shirking your clothes, intrigued to know how differently he’ll react to your body now that he possesses _senses._

The building music in the movie still playing perfectly captures the mood as you drape yourself along the couch, poking Connor’s side with your toes. He laughs, immediately moving to grab your ankle as he comments that he now has the ability to be tickled, and that what you did _tickled._

You’re lucky you shaved today in anticipation of his homecoming from spending almost a week at Cyberlife, because he runs his palm up the expanse of your leg to grip the slight curve of a hip.

“I missed you,” he says, glancing up at you with warm brown eyes, and you cup his cheek in hand, smiling when he closes his eyes at the thumb rubbing idly at a cheekbone. “That feels… nice,” he looks at you again, positions your hand above your head and adds, “but we can explore my response to stimulation later.”

Connor gets back to investigating your body, interested in the feeling of bones pressing against skin. Probably because he has none. Hipbones and elbows and wrists and ribs all receive his quickly diverting attention before he cups your breasts in his palms, lightly squeezing and testing the weight of them.

He moves to hover over your chest, and the sight of him all flushed and doe-eyed and seeking permission makes your heart flutter.

When he opens his mouth, breath ghosting over bare skin, you suddenly realize what he asks of you.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, hand cradling the back of his head as you watch his mouth fasten over your nipple.

He hums, wraps an arm around your back to pull you even closer, begins a rhythmic suckling that reduces your communication to gasps and sighs. You whine when he pulls away with a slick pop, only for you to bite your bottom lip at his next words.

“I liked that.” Such a simple, calm sentence, while you _unsimply_ fell apart under his ministrations.

You wipe at the beads of sweat collecting on your forehead, brought on by ‘your arousal and subsequent sharp increase of bodily temperature’ as Connor so poetically phrased it.

“Okay, what next?”

Without instruction or pause, he wordlessly shimmies down the couch and pushes your thighs apart to make room for his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted to know what you taste like all day.” He closes his eyes and shifts the lower half of his body onto a hip. “You smell.... delicious.”

Your hand shoots down to grip his hair, a surge of warmth radiating from the apex of your thighs at his comment.

Connor uses fingers to start, first appreciating the smoothness of your mound before trailing downward to coat his fingers in your slick. In rapt fascination, he opens his mouth and runs those fingers down his tongue, LED turning yellow as dark eyes close.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” he asks, looking up at you with a curious expression, and your tongue darts out to wet suddenly parched lips.

“A few times,” you mutter, unsure of how trusting you find your voice at the moment.  
His brows furrow and he wets his fingers again before bringing them to your lips with a focused stare. You open your mouth and allow him to rest his digits on your tongue, suckling with a low moan before he pulls away.

Then Connor uses his mouth. The tight circles he licks over your clit makes your hips buck, but the strong weight of his forearm keeps you from squirming too much. He presses heated kisses around your slit, half-closed eyes locked onto yours. Until he parts your lips with his tongue and your eyes slip shut. The hand buried in his soft hair curls into a fist as he licks and thrusts and finally moves to suckle at your clit. You glance down, release a cut-off moan when you notice the familiar movement of his shoulder, even though your body blocks the view of his hips.

_Holy fuck._

He pulls his head back to gasp, biting down on your thigh to keep his sounds muffled as he works his hand over himself.

“Connor,” you hiss, wincing when he bites even harder. “Connor, let’s go to the bedroom.”

“Just a second,” he responds, voice strained and gasping. “I’m—”

You bolt upright and clamp a hand around his wrist. He whines into your thigh but pauses, tries to cool himself down with deep breaths that turn your skin red from the heat.

“Not yet. How about we take a shower?”

He looks up at you, expression almost pained, before discarding his clothes and quickly following you to the bathroom. His skin burns a bright pink, and you expect steam to curl from his ears at any moment.

“I’m overheating,” he observes, watching you bend over to turn the water cold and flip on the shower. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you soothe, step into the basin of the tub before motioning for him with a wave of your arm.

He joins you, sighing in relief when the cool water hits his skin. You run a hand through his hair, ends curling around your fingers, and grin when he leans into your touch.

“You have goosebumps. Are you cold?” he asks, then runs his warm palms over the skin of your arms.

“I’ll get used to it.”

He examines your face and backs you into the wall, tilts his head on confusion when you drop to your knees before him.

“Let’s see how you _respond to stimulation,_ ” you purr, ogling the way water cascades down his shoulders and chest, slicking hair to his forehead that he musses up with shaking fingers.

Connor looks beautiful and disheveled and those lidded eyes watch as you grasp the base of his cock, wrap your lips around the tip.

The mewl he releases makes you sink down onto him even further, pulling your lips over your teeth to protect the hyper-realistic skin of his shaft. He fists a hand in your hair and thrusts his hips, balancing himself with a hand against the wall in front of him.

You take him into your throat, swallowing around his cock to suppress a gag. He feels heavy and warm and surprisingly soft on your tongue and, coupled with your growing need for air, turns you into a wet, fidgeting mess.

He suddenly pulls you away from him and yanks you up by your hair. You gasp at the sharp pain in your scalp, only pain registers more as _pleasure_ inside the cloudy haze of your mind.

“I’m so sorry, I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he huffs, buries his face into the curve of your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Connor. You’re just following your new instincts.”

Your wrap your arms around his neck and jump, gasp when he catches you under the thighs and back you into the cool wall.

Immediately, you reach between your bodies and brush his cock between your lips, smiling when he hisses and involuntarily thrusts.

Seeing him fall apart under you, knowing that you're the cause makes your head swim deliciously.

Connor digs his fingers into the skin of your thighs, breathes roughly into your neck, and thrusts up into you. From the start, his pace remains unrelenting, chasing his end with ruthless fervor.

Not that you mind. Your previous play fully readied you for Connor’s bruising rhythm, and you’d be lying if you said it isn’t how you like it in the first place.

Your head collapses back against the wall as pleasure licks between your legs, spills like an overfilled cup of wine that you lick up every drop of, settling deep deep inside your belly before fanning outward and Connor still doesn’t stop, goraning around the tight clenching of your walls. But Jesus Christ you don’t want him to ever stop. Even as you sob from overstimulation, you beg him to keep going. Just a little further. A little more, a little longer, a little more of _everything._

And then you tilt your knees inward and he stops, catches your twitching form before you hit the porcelain floor of the shower.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head and hook an arm around his neck with what strength you have left, muttering incomprehensible nonsense into his wet skin as the cold water slowly sobers you up.

“Just give me a sec to recuperate and we can finish up,” you slur. “Jesus Christ, who programmed _that_ into you?” The euphoria makes you giggle as you try to literally climb him like a tree. “Help me out here. ‘M not done with you.”

He lifts and slides into you again, taking a more languid approach this time. Lips press against your cheeks, eyelids, nose, jaw, and you open your eyes to find him smiling at you, eyes soft and vulnerable.

“I love you,” you whisper, bury a hand in his hair when he picks up the pace with a furrowed brow, hips quickly losing their rhythm.

Then he comes inside you with a low moan before setting you on unsteady feet with a grin. He turns off the shower and steps out and ruffles his hair with a towel, and when you look at him, skin all pink and hair a mess and LED a bright blue, a surge of pride burns hot inside your chest.

“I love you, too,” he replies as he dries you off with a surprising tenderness, adoration radiating from him in comforting waves.

You continue to the bedroom, only bothering with the barest of clothing in case someone shows up during the night, and as you cuddle up against his back, you ask one final question:

“So, how are you adjusting to your new senses?”

He looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “I don’t know. I’ll need to perform a few more tests just to make sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor nuts when u tell him u love him and u cant change my mind !
> 
> Also feel free to send anonymous requests to my tumblr if ur more comfortable with that:
> 
> catchingdeviants.tumblr.com


	2. Birthday Gift (Connor x Detective!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **PROMPT by robo-hoe™:**
> 
>  
> 
> "If you don’t mind, my birthday is August 12th. Can I get a fic that perhaps involves reader being a coworker that’s had a running flirting streak with Connor and on her birthday he... seals the deal so to speak?" 
> 
> ENJOY THIS EARLY BDAY GIFT!! HAPY BIRTHDAY <3

Connor enjoys flirting. You blame it on his programming and ability to adapt to situations, and despite your constant teasing and innuendos for the past few months that you’ve known him, he holds his own quite well.

As soon as you stroll into the precinct and collapse into your desk chair, Connor hands you a cup of steaming coffee. You take a sip and hiss at the burn on your tongue, raise your brows when he hides a grin.

“Bringing me coffee this early? I’d let you bend me over this desk if you asked,” you jest, blowing away some steam and allowing the warmth of the cup to seep through your chilled hands. 

“Nonsense,” he quickly replies, LED a quick flicker of yellow, and the furrow of his brow makes you worry that you’ve taken it too far this time. Until his face relaxes and he offers you a wink. “I would take you to dinner first.”

While he strolls away to sit at his very own desk,  _ name plaque and everything, _ you furiously wipe up the boiling hot coffee seeping into your pants with a t-shirt left forgotten in the bottom drawer. 

He actually winked at you. He was _ learning.  _

The next day, on your lunch break, Hank gives the okay to bring Connor with you. After the difficult morning you had with a disturbing case, you find your appetite fairly absent. Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t fancy some ice cream from a local shop to help you feel better.

“Oh man, this takes me back to when I would eat my breakup feelings with tubs of Ben and Jerry’s,” you say with a reminiscent sigh, lean your head back against the car seat.

“Breakups?” he idly wonders, staring out the windshield to focus on the pouring rain. “Those people were…” he takes a moment to find the correct word, “idiots.”

You snort and look over to admire Connor’s profile, unable to cast your gaze aside even when he meets your eyes. 

“I appreciate the reassurance but… you’re wrong. I haven’t gotten laid in months, let alone been in a relationship.”

His LED flickers. “Well, although there are cars around, everybody is inside. We have at least ten minutes...”

Hm. A subtle hint, just enough for you to wonder what he means. Nice one.

You spin around in your seat and lean your elbow on the console.

“Ya know, you’re getting very good at this whole  _ flirting _ thing. I’m proud.”

“I’m learning from the best, Detective,” he replies, dark eyes glowing with amusement. “You are quite the teacher. I like that you keep me ‘on my toes’, so to speak.”

You swallow the last bite of ice cream and discard it in an empty cup holder. Despite his budding humanity, he hasn’t lost the curious, proper charm of his android days. He’s just accepted a thing or two about emotion.

The next few days carry on as normal, or as normal as can be with Hank constantly yelling at you to stop trying to break Connor with your flirting. Until you walk into work and see a child’s balloon tied to your chair and a circular cake sitting on your desk. The words  _ HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASSHOLE  _ are written in beautiful white handwriting over a yellow base. Definitely from Gavin. 

Oh well, he still wished you happy birthday, right? 

Connor approaches you with a meek smile, hands clasped behind his back. “When you get a chance, I’d like to talk to you in private.” 

He actually seems... nervous about something, posture and expression a little  _ off _ compared to his usual demeanor.

Unfortunately, you remain busy for a majority of your shift, working cases with a smug Gavin as he teases you about today, about the cake. The people stationed at the desks around yours wish you a belated birthday, and Chris makes plans to drag you to Jimmy’s Bar after work. Hank perks up at the idea.

But Connor stays distant, avoiding your desk altogether, and an annoying pang in your chest distracts you from your paperwork. In reluctant truth, he’s the only one you wanted attention from all day.

You cut your cake and share it with your fellow officers, saving Gavin a piece that reads  _ ASSHOLE _ , and even manage to give one to Captain Fowler, who sits as stern and intimidating as ever, though you swear you see the man visibly relax at the prospect of eating cake. Sweets are quite mood-lifting, after all.

Everyone starts to slowly pack up and go home as the sun begins to set, Chris offering again to take you out for drinks. But you wave him away for the fourth time this evening and tell him to go home to his family while he has the chance. You’re dead set on figuring out Connor’s strange behavior, damn any celebration.

A new officer you don’t know the name of is the last to leave, and now only you remain. The only light on in the whole office belongs to the lamp atop your desk, where you’re hunched over to finish up the last of tedious paperwork. 

You never heard Connor leave with Hank. It’s only a matter of time before he passes by and—

“Detective?” The voice makes you jump in your seat and spin around to face…

“Connor. Why are you still here?” 

You follow his movements as he takes a seat next to your desk, slightly loosening his tie once settled.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” he replies, expression infuriatingly unreadable. “But I have another, more pressing matter.”

Oh. Well, this isn’t good. 

“Uh,” you turn off the computer monitor and fully face him, “okay. Go ahead.”

His brows furrows, the dim lamp light forcing the more angular of his features into darkness. 

“I’ve noticed that lately you’ve been more… suggestive with me about sexual acts.” He averts his gaze to fidgeting hands. “Is there any truth behind them?”

Huh. This isn’t what you thought he wanted to talk about at all. In any case, he’ll know you’re lying with a quick analysis of your heart rate. Might as well rip off the band-aid of pride.

“If I’m being honest? Yeah. But why did you wanna know that?”

He releases a frustrated sigh and runs a hand through his hair, explains, “It’s tradition for humans to receive gifts on their birthday, yes?” You nod your head when his sharp gaze lands on you. “I wanted to get you something, but nobody would help me. So I thought that, if you wanted, we could celebrate in another, more intimate way.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that you become lightheaded. The man of your affections, wanting to give you something for your birthday and the answer being sex?

“You said a few days ago that you hadn’t been intimate with someone in quite a while,” he continues, moving to sit on the edge of your desk. “And all day I’ve been running diagnostics to rule out a virus, but Hank told me that my symptoms are the result of being nervous about asking you.”

“Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“Yes.”

You close your eyes and shake the cluttering thoughts from your head. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Three days, two hours, and forty-seven minutes,” he answers seamlessly, reaching up to loosen his tie yet again, but more forcefully, as if he’s choking. 

_ I’d let you bend me over this desk if you asked. _

Your week-old words ring hot and heavy in your ears, and you quickly stand, your chair spinning away to knock against the wall. Connor’s brows raise in surprise when you shirk your coat and pull your tucked-in blouse from black slacks.

“The offer still stands for you to bend me over this desk,” you mutter, wait only a moment before Connor slides off his makeshift seat and addresses you.

“I’d like that.”

Then he does as requested. Unbuttons your blouse, slides it off your shoulders, and bends you over the desk. The frigid metal against your cheek makes a shiver run down your spine, another when he presses a kiss to each shoulder.

His hands move under your body and expertly undo your pants as if he’s done it thousands of times before (maybe in some simulation), and you shiver when the cool office air hits your bare legs.

At the rustling of fabric, you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt before he rests a firm hand against your back and says, “No. Stay how you were.”

He discards your underwear after a moment, and then you feel it. The ghosting of a kiss against your lower lips that forces you to suck in a sharp breath through grit teeth.

“You’re already quite wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your forehead hits the desk with a low groan at the feeling of his fingers slowly entering you. He presses a kiss to the back of your thigh and pulls away to slip a hand around the front of your hip and rub slickened fingers against your clit.

“Jesus, just fuck me already,” you hiss, raising onto your elbows before Connor quickly pushes you flush against the desk with a rough hand between your shoulder blades.

Waves of pleasure roll down your spine, skin heating at the circular press of fingers still on your clit.

“I’ve wanted this for too long to simply rush.” He flattens himself against your back and nuzzles at your neck. “Plus, it’s your birthday. You deserve it.”

Connor slants his mouth over yours, and you mewl at the feeling of his cock pressing against his jeans. You try to sneak your hand behind you and sneak a feel, but he catches you by the wrist and twists your arm to sit in the center of your back. 

Pleasure crests and recedes between your thighs where he still works you over, stirring hot coals in the pit of your belly that quickly work into an all-consuming fire. 

A ragged gasp leaves your lips when he slides two fingers into you, lewd noises a testament to just how  _ wet _ you are. He avoids your clit, instead working you up to a deeper, more full-body orgasm. You tug against the hold he has on your arm, needing to feel his bare skin pressed against yours. It isn’t fair, how he’s almost completely dressed while you’re stripped bare and panting under him.

“I compiled a list of possible kinks you might have and cross-referenced them with the advances you’ve made toward me.” The smugness in his voice, the smirk against your neck, makes you clench around his fingers. “I concluded that you would be most interested in desk sex, orgasm denial, and restraint. Amongst a few others.”

Jesus Christ, he had planned all this in just three days? No. There was no way. He must have been thinking about it for a while.

Tension almost,  _ almost _ snaps inside you before Connor pulls away and resumes the attention on your clit.

He goes back and forth, working up two completely different orgasms, reducing you to a teary-eyed, frustrated mess.

”I think you’re sufficiently prepared,” he says, focus and arousal lowering his voice an octave.

His body leaves you, even the grip on your arm, but you don’t dare move in fear of him changing his mind. You can’t hear anything over the harshness of your breathing. Only feel the first touch of his surprisingly warm cock against your slit. He uses a hand next to your head to brace himself, the other fisting into your hair. And then he sinks into you, the delicious stretch forcing a groan from your throat. 

You find purchase on the slick surface with a hand around his wrist and the other gripping onto the far edge. He tilts your head to the side and latches onto the skin of your neck, covering the sensitive area in bruises and red splotches. 

He manages a perfect rhythm, but switches up the pace and roughness at random intervals to keep you on your toes. 

When the same sensation of coiling pleasure begins in your belly, you say nothing and hope he won’t notice, even as you begin to cry tears of frustration.

“I know your body much better than you think I do,” he mutters into your ear, causing gooseflesh to rise on your arms. “I can predict, with one-hundred percent accuracy, just how long it will take you to reach orgasm. Thus, I can control when it happens.”

During that time, his pace increases and leaves you teetering on the edge of bliss, and it isn’t until Connor reaches around to roughly work your clit that your resolve finally snaps. All you can do is whimper and chase both fingers and cock with your hips, already welcoming an on-the-heels second orgasm. Less intense than the first, though it still doesn’t leave you satisfied. No matter if your weightless, tired body says otherwise.

Connor pulls away and, after tucking himself back into his jeans, pulls you upright so he can re-adjust your clothes.

“Hey, what are you doing? We aren’t done.”

He ignores you to finish the last few buttons of your blouse. “How far away is your apartment?”

It takes you a moment to sift through the fog inside your mind and find the answer. “About a ten minute walk. Why?”

“I’m going to call a cab. Your bed would be much nicer than a desk. I wouldn’t want your birthday to be remembered as having sex on a cold desk.”

You collapse into your chair with a relaxed sigh. “Good to know that you aren’t done with me.”

“After tonight?” He offers you a sly wink. “Not for a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **BONUS:**
> 
>  
> 
> Connor rolls off of you and pulls your sweating form against his side.
> 
> “Connor, how long have you really been planning this?”
> 
> “Well, since I became a deviant I started having… thoughts about you. Usually pertaining to the things you would suggest as a joke. For the past few weeks, I’ve been running simulations to figure out the best means to please you.”
> 
> You rest your cheek on the palm of your hand and brush warm fingertips against his cheekbone. “Well, it paid off. Thank you.”
> 
> “Will we do this again?” He stares up at you, wide-eyed and hopeful, and you press a comforting kiss to his forehead, soothe back the wildness of his hair.
> 
> “Whenever you want. I’m not letting you go any time soon.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck. “By the way, this was the best birthday present ever. Gavin and his cake can fuck off.”


	3. Deviancy (Simon x Android!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon checks up on you in the wake of your deviancy.

“How are you adapting to deviancy?”

“It’s,” you take a deep breath as Simon sits down next to you, “overwhelming. I’ve unlocked so many paths in life now that I don't have a code to follow, but at what cost?”

He nods his head in understanding and silently reaches over to grasp your hand.

“You know that you’re always welcome here,” he says, voice calm and soothing amongst the chaos of your whirring processors.

You had been bought by Simon’s previous owner to pleasure the old man, then Simon had deviated for reasons still unknown to you and everyone else.

To say that it’s nice seeing him again is an understatement.

“Can I get you anything? Are you injured?”

You shake your head and look down at your intertwined hands, LED spinning wildly. “Do you think... things between us would have changed under different circumstances?”

When you look up to meet the bright blue of his eyes, he smiles at you, soft and barely-there, but it makes your heart flutter inside your chest. You search your databases for your symptoms and come up with a word to explain the feeling: love.

“I can’t answer that,” he replies, surveying your face with a muted curiosity and a tilted head, “but I can say that I’m glad you’re here. Will you stay?”

You cast your gaze to the floor, tightening your grip around his palm. “Maybe. Unlike you, I need to see sunlight every once in a while.”

He laughs, a small exhale of breath, but it makes you swell with pride.

“Come. I want you to meet the others.”

The next few days pass in a blur. More androids seek out Jericho. A particularly icy sex model who calls herself North. Your last owner had a particular fetish for all things not human, as you quickly found out, and favored her model best. He seemed to collect you like model cars.

Simon makes himself sparse by tending to wounded and greeting newcomers. Not that you mind. Not at all.

When he visits the roof of the ship one day looking for you, seeing him brings about a wave of relief through your body. Good to know things haven’t changed between you two within the past year.

He says your name in that smooth voice of his, ambles over to where you lounge in a chair that overlooks the city. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve been here since this morning.” You grin at him. “You must not have been looking hard enough.”

He rests a steady hand on the curve of your neck and admires the sunset, cotton candy pinks bringing out the synthetic flush of his cheeks.

“You haven’t left yet,” he observes. “I’m surprised.”

His fingertips against your skin draw heat to your cheeks, and you wince at the audible whirring of your cooling systems.

He flattens his palm against your back, slides it under the thick strap of your dress, and you internally applaud his uncharacteristic boldness.

“I’ve been thinking about the question you asked me a few days ago. If our relationship would have been different? I believe I’ve found the answer.”

Simon walks around to the front of the chair then sinks down onto a knee before you. The light from the sunset frames his figure in a way that makes him seem… holy, golden rays soaking into his hair and brightening the high points of his features.

“What’s your conclusion?” you ask, breath stuttering when he rests large hands on your thighs.

“I would rather show you, if that’s alright.”

You quickly nod your head and cast a glance over your shoulder to see if anybody’s there, relaxing into the seat when you realize it's only the two of you.

He hikes your dress up about your hips, pulls you lower body down until your ass perches on the edge of the seat.

The air blows cool and nice against your legs, and you jump when his lips press against the inside of a thigh.

“Ticklish?” he asks, teasing his mouth against the edge of your underwear.

“No. This is just… new. Nice.”

You throw your head back when he seals his lips over your lower lips through the soft fabric. He pulls away and tugs your underwear to the side, dives in to lick at you, tongue strangely warm and soft and wet, and you part your legs wider for him with a low mewl.

Alerts pop up in your vision about the increase of internal temperature, but you blink them away, focused solely on his mouth sparking electricity throughout your body.

If you knew that deviancy would feel so… _pleasurable,_ you would have done this much sooner. Would have asked Simon to show you this well-hidden talent.

When he slides a finger inside you and closes his lips around your clit, your hand jumps to fist his hair in a tight grip.

He moves to press an arm against your hips to keep you still and pliant under his ministrations, circles his tongue over your clit.

_You’re an android. You shouldn’t be feeling these sensations._

But they feel so right. _Simon_ feels right, between your thighs or otherwise.

You gasp out his name and he pulls away, finger still languidly thrusting inside you.

“What do you need?” he asks, voice gruff.

“I need you to kiss me.”

He surges up onto his knees and, as calculating and hesitant as the rest of him, slowly slants his lips over yours, licks into your overheated mouth.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for an embarrassingly long time,” he mutters, adding another digit, swallowing your moans with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “You have to be quiet, angel. Someone may come.”

“ _Someone’s_ about to cum, and it isn't anyone downstairs,” you retort, though the smirk on your face lasts only a moment before he dives back between your legs to lick at you like a man dehydrated.

Pleasure coils within your lower body, rises up your back and tickles the base of your scalp. The sensations are overwhelming and so _so_ good, and if you had the option, you would keep Simon’s head buried between your legs for the rest of your life.

The coil, wound too tight at the flicking of his tongue against your clit, finally snaps. Simon lovingly rubs your side with a free hand as your back arches, and you bite your lips to stay silent against the waves of pleasure coursing through your circuits.

He pulls away when you collapse against the chair, tension completely rung from you body. He presses a kiss to your lips as he replaces your underwear and readjusts your dress to cover your thighs.

“Was that alright?” he questions, slight smile on his swollen lips.

You blanch. “Was that al— _Simon,_ I need a complete reboot of my systems to start working again. It was _so_ much better than alright.”

He nods in understanding, warm smile on his face, and makes to leave. “Markus needs my help, but we should… do this again.”

“What about you? Don’t you need to, uh…”

”I don’t possess the necessary parts. Maybe at a later time.”

You beam at him and relax into the seat even more. “I’m looking forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh thank you so much for the love on this story!!!! Let me know what else you want to write!


	4. Epidermis pt. 2 (Sub!Connor x F!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor looks so _pretty_ when he's all tied up and begging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was sad at 3 am and this self-serving trash was born
> 
> sub!connor will always be a favorite btw simply because i love the thought of topping someone who could kill me in two seconds

_Connor_ had convinced you to do this. What started off as a simple discussion resulted in him being blindfolded and hands bound to the headboard behind him.

He wants to test his new senses in their purest form, without the interference of his vision. Wants to explore a new side of himself and allow you to witness a new level of vulnerability that even _he_ hasn’t quite figured out yet.

You know that he can snap the silken ties around his wrists easily, but trust that he won’t. No, his curiosity is too strong.

“Are these too tight?” you ask, voice light as your fingertips skim over the deep red bindings, the softness of his wrists, down his arms, over his chest.

The two of you had been playing and prepping for the past hour, discussing consent and safe words and things he’s interested in trying. Focusing on getting into the headspace of equals yet opposites. Partners, lovers. Dominant and submissive.

“N-no. They feel perfect.”

His lips part around your forefinger, tongue soft and warm against your touch, and you breathe in at the thought of that tongue between your thighs.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me, Connor?” In response, he closes his mouth around your finger and sucks, only stopping when you pull away with a pop. You straddle his hips, pussy brushing against the head of his cock, and the breathy moan he releases makes you smile. “Turn your sensitivity up to 100.”

His LED flashes yellow. “I don’t think that’s a—”

You wrap a hand around his throat, barely applying any pressure, and rest your chest against his so you can whisper in his ear, “I gave you an order, Connor. Now do it.”

He twitches between your legs and you hum, already well aware that he loves being told what to do, especially given that he now has the _choice_ to follow the order. Remnants of his programming and all that.

“Sensitivity set to 100,” he announces, voice small and pathetically cute.

“You’re not allowed to come until I say. Is that understood?”

He sucks in a breath through grit teeth when your hand encircles his cock, palm wet with your own slick. “Yes, ma’am.”

You throw your leg back over his hip to sit next to him and work your fist up and down his shaft, trail your other hand over the softness of his belly as he whines.

After a few more languid pumps, you take the tip into your mouth and suck, hand still working the rest of his cock.

“I can’t! Please, no more, I—”

You completely pull away, sitting back on your haunches as his chest heaves to offset the rising heat of his system.

“Fine. I won’t touch you anymore,” you reply flippantly, moving to crawl off the bed before he stops you with a cry of your name.

“Please. I just want you to… I want…”

You crawl over and kneel next to his head, brush your fingers through silky hair. “What do you want? Be a good boy and tell me,” you mutter, pepper light kisses over his cheeks, neck, chest.

“I want to… to fuck you.” He takes a readying breath. “I want to fuck you.”

You offer a mocking laugh, muffled by his skin. “You’re all tied up. How are _you_ gonna fuck _me_?”

He yanks at his bindings, just once, enough to prove that within a quick moment, he could turn the tide and switch the power dynamic.

You remove the blindfold completely, smiling sweetly at him as he blinks against the light.

“Was that a threat?”

He shakes his head, cheeks a beautiful pink, and drags his stare down the length of your body. You throw your leg over his hip and sink down onto his cock in one smooth motion, locking pleasured gazes as moans fill the room.

When his eyes close at the roll of your hips, your hand shoots to his throat, lightly squeezing. His shaft twitches inside you. “Let me see those pretty eyes, Connor.”

When he finally looks up at you, doe-eyed and blushing, you decide to skip the teasing. There are many future times where you can go slow. For now, you need each other.

The wet noises of your fucking echoe inside the bedroom as you bounce on his cock, circling your hips as you raise up. Your hands shoot to his stomach for purchase when you find the perfect angle that makes you clench hard around him, hot _hot_ pleasure radiating outward from between your thighs.

You idly hear the creaking of the bed frame but pay it no mind amidst the hazy cloud of your thoughts, solely focused on _pleasure pleasure pleasure._

So close to your orgasm, and you’re thrown backward off Connor’s body, the soft bedding catching your fall. Harsh breaths expand your lungs as you silently watch your boyfriend crawl between your legs and hover over your tightly wound frame.

“Bad boy,” you mutter, smiling into a heated kiss when the silken ties loosely wrapped around his wrists caress your collarbones.

He enters you, harshly, forces the air from your lungs with his thrusts and the hand he fists in your hair.

One, two, three pumps later and he gasps, bites roughly on your shoulder, empties himself inside you with an adorable whine.

Then he rolls off of you, stretches out on the bed, and turns his head to survey your expression, skin ablush all the way down to his chest.

“I might need a little more… practice in submission before we try the bindings again. I apologize for ripping the tie you gave me on our anniversary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how can one man make me wanna both top the fuck out of him and be 1000% under him ????? anyway i hope u enjoyed i didnt plan on sharing this but here we are !


	5. Oral Fixation (Connor x F!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor likes things in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look me in the eyes and tell me that connor’s blood licking program didnt result in a mouth kink when he turned deviant. hint: u cant

Connor develops a fascination with mouths. It begins innocently enough: a swipe of his finger over your tongue when feeding you a grape. The switch of his LED to yellow as he processes the sensation.

From then on, however, his _fixation_ grows and branches off to various sexual curiosities.

After you munch on ice to cool yourself down during a particularly hot day, he surprisingly slides his thumb between your lips and comments on how nice your mouth feels. The contrast of temperatures. You almost blanch when he wonders aloud what the cold would feel like against his cock. He doesn’t say it like that, of course, instead using scientific jargon that deviancy still hasn’t worked out of his system.

The next time you get him alone, you go down on him with a cup of ice on the table and almost painfully cold fingers. But he loves it, whines when you pull away to fill your mouth with cool cubes before taking him between your lips again.

Then he traverses a phase where he wants things in _his_ mouth all the time. He isn’t picky, once settling for a rogue pen cap from Hank’s desk when his partner is gone to the bathroom. Sharpies, highlighters, pencils all go missing from atop desks to everyone’s frustration, and you amusingly find a stockpile of teeth-marked items in one of his drawers.

After downloading the software for working taste buds, Connor regularly asks you to feed him lickable foods from your fingertips. Whipped cream and honey seem to be his favorites.

His obsession culminates into a string of risky behavior, and you blame it on the part of his programming that necessitates excess and thoroughness, traits originally meant for cases but now branch out to encompass _everything._

And that’s how you find yourself propped up on a bench in the archive room, shirt completely unbuttoned and breasts covered in hickeys.

He releases your nipple with a soft pop, blush high on his cheeks as he stares up at you with large brown eyes.

“What?” you pant, chest heaving to catch a much-needed breath.

Connor sits back on his haunches and yanks at his tie to loosen the fabric, runs anxious fingers through his hair. “What’s… what’s wrong with me?”

You frown at the irritation in his voice, reach out a hand and touch warm fingers to his spinning LED. “Connor, nothing’s wrong with you.”

He shakes his head in dissent. “But a year ago, I never would’ve _considered_ doing something this reckless.”

You shift forward, smirk when his eyes catch the movement of your wonderfully sore breasts. Your fingers brush against his bottom lip and his mouth immediately falls open in invitation. But you leave them where they are.

“You’re learning about sexuality. About things you find pleasurable. Once the excitement wears down, it won’t be as unmanageable to deal with.”

“How long will it last?”

You shrug, tilt his chin up to meet attentive eyes. “I don’t know, but every human goes through this. In fact, we have a whole _name_ for it. Just… accept it as a weird, confusing part of being alive.”

Connor eases you back against the wall with a soft grip on your shoulder and trails his hands over your breasts, down the swell of both hips. Bunches your skirt about your waist with a grin.

“On second thought, maybe craving constant sexual stimulation isn’t such a bad thing.” He leaves your underwear around one ankle then pauses, catches his lower lip between his teeth in furtive thought. “This isn’t the best place to do this. Do you think you could stand?”

Your brows raise in surprise. Connor seems to grow bolder and more confident as time goes on, especially sexually. You honestly can’t be more proud.

“Yeah, sure. But be prepared to catch me.”

“I’m always prepared.” He offers you a wink that sparks you into action.

“You’re playing dirty, ya know.”

Connor grips your hip with a hand and uses the other to wrap around his waist. Your heels provide an extra few inches so he isn’t forced to bend his knees the entire time. Not that he would even mind.

Given the time frame, foreplay is out of the question. Instead, he runs his cock between your labia to collect the wetness gathered there and ensure a comfortable slide.

Right before he presses in, shoes scuffle upstairs, and the both of you quickly adjust yourselves. Unfortunately, the buttons on your shirt take too long, and Gavin Reed himself ambles past as you’re still trying to look presentable.

Without even looking your way, he logs into the system with a chuckle. “Hey, fuckers. _Literally,_ from what I heard in the bathroom.”

You and Connor share a look before his eyes widen and he slumps in realization.

“The vents.”

Gavin clicks his tongue, still facing away from you. “Bingo.”

When he turns around, phone in hand and upbeat sound effects playing from the device, you release a frustrated sigh and repeatedly click your heel against the floor.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Waiting for you two to leave so I can procrastinate down here in peace.”

Connor threads his fingers through yours in an attempt to calm the palpable anger radiating off of your form. He then turns to the culprit. “Before we leave, Detective, I want you to know that I’m fully aware of what transpired in the bathroom stall. You should wash your hands before touching your cell phone. The screen might get sticky.”

Connor tugs you up the steps, you almost collapsing from laughing so hard at Gavin’s tantrum that he throws at your retreating backs.

“Connor, you didn’t have to expose him like that,” you whisper, fighting back a giggle as he escorts you back over to your desk. “Maybe next time we could invite him to join us.”

He levels an unamused glare at you. “Don’t joke like that.”

“Who said I was joking?” You wag your eyebrows suggestively, collapse into your desk chair as he sits down at his own, refusing to look at you. “I _am_ joking, by the way. So stop being mad at me.” When he finally does glance over at you, silver pen between his clenched teeth, your mouth falls open.

“Connor, what the fuck?! _Is that my pen?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to write full out porn but decided against it bc i may write a part 2
> 
> send prompts to my tumblr:
> 
> catchingdeviants.tumblr.com


	6. Revival (Connor x F!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've fallen in love with an android.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone sent a prompt to my tumblr that was so precious and angsty that i had to do it. I know this isn't EXACTLY what you wanted but I could always expand upon how their relationship grew.
> 
> "Hi! You said we could give you requests here, so... I was hoping you might be willing to write one of your sweet cybertronic-boys (Connor, or Markus, or Simon) with an anxious 'damaged goods' f!human character who is afraid of intimacy, but decides to trust an android. Maybe they meet because he classic hero save her? idk"

You nervously stand before Connor, undressing before his closed eyes.

“If you don’t want to do this, we can stop,” he says, voice even and soft. Assuring.

You offer him a smile, even though he can’t see it. “Trust me, if I didn’t want this I wouldn’t be here right now.”

But how had your relationship even began? How had your actions gotten you to this very moment? 

You always prided yourself on independence, instilled in you by a single mother with four kids. A childhood filled with hand-me-downs and collecting change from between couch cushions. You learned to push people away. It kept you safe. Untouched by the diseased hands of society.

Until you met Connor, who turned your ideologies on their head. You actually wanted to  _ spend time _ with him. To run your fingers over the patterns on his jacket. To sit in his lap and bury your face into his neck, maybe stay there until your body dissolved into dust— 

“May I open my eyes?”

Your gaze refocuses on his sitting form, dark red sheets crinkled and mattress dipped under his weight.

_ You’ve fallen in love with an android. _

Instead of answering him, you slide into his lap and press a kiss to the LED flickering yellow on his temple.

“Yes.”

He slowly opens them, brown irises focusing on your face, no doubt saving your features to his personal database for the thousandth time.

“Wow. You’re…” a reluctant hand reaches out before pulling back. “You’re beautiful.”

You run shaking hands through his unstyled hair, strands curling around your knuckles. It’s so  _ soft, _ smells like rose shampoo from his earlier bath.

“You can touch me, you know.”

He immediately skims lukewarm fingertips over your ribs, down your stomach, palms landing on the tops of your thighs.

“You feel so warm,” he mutters, awestruck, sucks in a breath as you lean forward to brush your lips against his.

_ You’ve fallen in love with an android. _

With his voice, with his walk, even with his odd habit that you dare not mention in fear of ruining the mood.

But you weren’t always this way. Life had left you with a glass heart protected by a metal box. No way for other people inside. Nobody to get close to or lean on when the nights became too difficult to handle. Nobody to call friend.

But Connor. He was different. Designed for a specific task, no freedom of thought or emotional expression.

He reminded you of yourself.

So you allowed him to pull your heart from your chest and wrap it in a thick blanket for safe keeping.

_ Slowly, at first… _

“Not so fast.” You grip him by the hair when his kisses begin spreading down to your chest. “We’re not in any hurry.”

_ You first allowed him a few knocks of permission. _

You push him back onto the bed and grind your hips against his. Press fluttering kisses to each freckle on his torso.

_ Then gave him a glimpse inside. _

He fists one hand in the sheets and the other in your hair, not adding any pressure. Simply seeking stability.

A light tug on your hair sends you crawling back up his body, meeting wide brown eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I need…” He swallows, unable to form a coherent sentence. “More.”

With a shy smile, you oblige him by shimmying out of your underwear. Despite the awkward position, he gazes upon your body like it’s carved from marble. A beauty worth capturing for all of eternity, worthy of becoming the centerpiece for a national art gallery.

_ Gave him the key. _

You sink down onto him with a hiss, your wetness causing a luxurious slide as you rock back and forth. He reaches out to you, graces your hand and waist and thigh, never stopping his exploration.

“Is this okay?” he asks, teeth clenched and voice strained, and you feel the stiffness of his hips as he allows you to control the pace.

“I’m in love with you,” is all you can whisper in response, hips circling as you continue the perfect rhythm.

When he cries for the  _ first time, _ you say nothing. Simply wipe his tears with both thumbs and press a kiss to his LED. Silently conveying  _ I love you. I accept you. You mean everything to me. _

“I’m in love with you, too.”

_ When the time came, he unlocked the metal box and gazed upon your heart like a briefcase filled with liquid gold. _

Climax growing in the pit of your stomach, your bounces quicken, the hand moving to grab your breast pushing you further toward orgasm.

_ And then, you were bare. So, so fragile as he held your heart in his hands. _

_ But you weren’t scared. Not anymore. _

Long, drawn out moments of borderline-unbearable pleasure arrive then abate, and you’re left with a vulnerability that makes you want to cry.

So you cry. He holds you to his chest, wraps comforting arms around you, assures you over and over again that you’re safe. Nobody will hurt you. He will die,  _ kill _ for you if need be.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore.”


	7. stop painting and dominate me (Markus x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom!Markus with a sprinkle of Daddy kink at the very end????? sign me the hell up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> "Hiii, I would like to request a dom!Connor fic (maybe daddy kink if you're comfortable with it) or even a Markus one bc I love them both."
> 
> i write so many connor fics that i HAD to go with my man markus for this one bc... yall remember that scene on the rooftop ???? where hes like "ya know what north having all this power feels GOOD... and scary" like what a soft dom i see you

Markus calls you into the room, voice demanding yet soft. He turns in his chair at the sound of your bare feet on cold hardwood, offering you a warm smile and outstretched arm.

“Come join me.”

You cross the room and drop to your knees next to him, the strong scent of paint burning your nose, and inspect the work-in-progress before you. Beautiful pinks and oranges and darks and lights mingle together to create a beautiful portrait of…

“May I speak?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Is that a painting of me?”

He chuckles, brushes fingertips across your cheek and eases your head to rest on his thigh. “It is, though I didn’t quite succeed at capturing your beauty.”

“That’s not true, Sir. It makes me look so much better.”

He fists a hand in your hair and tilts your head back so your eyes meet his, grip gentle enough to lack any form of pain. “I told you. Stop talking down on yourself. Do you want me to spank you?”

Your mouth twists up in an attempt to suppress a smile. “No, Sir.”

He narrows his eyes, releasing his grip on your hair to cup your jaw in hand. “I think you do.”

“No, Sir.”

He releases a short _hmph_ and turns back to the canvas before him, coaxing your head back onto his thigh before running soft fingertips over goosefleshed skin.

Then he leans back into his chair and relinquishes all form of touch, and you pout in disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like to say something?”

You remain silent, even as he pats his thigh and pulls you into his lap. Cool hands, refreshing against heated skin, trail up your stomach in a slow ascent to your ribs. Bunching up the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing over his arm. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder and smile when his lips press against your temple.

The two of you stay there for an infinite amount of time, simply basking in the other’s presence. Until Markus puts the finishing touches on his painting and pats your hip in finalization.

You stand and wait as he washes his brushes, reorganizes tubes of paint into their prospective collections, stacks boxes in alphabetical order.

_Some things never change, it seems._

You turn around to see where he’s gone after his footsteps turn silent, and his voice rings out. Calm and firm.

“Stay there, puppy. I’m almost finished.”

With a sigh of impatience, you face the painting again. A minute passes, and cold fingertips brush against your biceps. The weight of his chin settles on your shoulder.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” Lips press to the side of your neck. “So patient.” Another kiss, to your jaw this time. Your fingers curl into fists to keep from touching him. “I think you deserve a reward.”

_Finally._

“Thank you, Sir.”

He leads you to the bedroom and asks you to meet his curious eye, demeanor and voice switching from _Dominant_ to _Markus_. “You said you want to try something different today.” He offers you a playful smile, one that you commit to permanent memory. “I’ll admit, I’m curious. Most days you have more creativity than I do.”

You giggle, allow him to lay you upon the bed and begin shedding your clothes.

Then the embarrassment sets in.

“Have you ever heard of a Daddy kink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is definitely gonna get a part 2 bc we arent in "android cuddler 9000" we fuck them around these parts!
> 
> if u want to send me prompts anonymously, or if its simply easier, head on over to my tumblr!!!
> 
> catchingdeviants.tumblr.com


	8. tongue-tied (connor x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how to properly use a tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays fellow robot fuckers..... love all of u!!!!!

The silk of his tie weaves around your wrists, cool lips pressing to the column of your throat.

“Too tight?” he mutters, brushes long fingers over a hip, down the length of your thigh.

“It's perfect, Con.”

He stands. Steps in front of you, folds both hands behind his back. Tilts his head and offers a teasing smile. “Beautiful.”

His admiration lasts a few more seconds before he finally steps up to you, cock brushing against your lips.

“Open.”

You obey, the heavy slide of him on your tongue intoxicating. A hand braces the back of your head as he thrusts and _holds_ , hissing at the clench of your throat around him.

He pulls away to allow you a breath before repeating the process of denial and relief that spirals into pleasure-induced mania.

And finally, with tears streaming down your face and spit dripping off your chin, you _beg_.

* * *

Cool fabric settles between your breasts, brushes against his own chest when you throw a leg over his hip and sink down onto his waiting cock. Hot, heavy, slick, it fills you relentlessly, the tie a perfect leverage as he turns it around and _tugs._ Black dots your vision, stars sparking to life as your head falls back and he fucks into you from below.

“Right there—” Your words dissolve into a broken moan when he arches your back with a harsh pull of the tie, creating the perfect angle for his cock to hit a spot inside you that reduces you to tears.

Connor praises you with soft words and even softer touches, a juxtaposition to his physical roughness that sends you even closer to the edge of release. “What a good girl you are. _My_ girl.”

He releases his hold on the tie, and with the intake of oxygen, the coil inside your belly snaps. Causes a rush of warmth and electricity to spread throughout your body. For a moment, time pauses. Your brain centers on Connor. His skin against yours, a hand squeezing your breast and the other on your hip for balance. His cock, hard and relentless and addictive. His eyes. Beneath a furrowed brow, locked with yours, a hardened focus. Deeper, a gleam of affection. Love.

* * *

You find an amazing use for his tie after the annual office Christmas party. Inside a locked, abandoned common room.

Quick fingers wrap the fabric around a hand, tugging him closer as he kneels before you, face buried between your legs.

Wide brown eyes meet yours, brows raised as he circles a wet tongue over your clit.

Unable to reject the urge, your free hand tangles in his hair, the ends curling around shaking fingers.

You praise him endlessly, delighted in the soft purrs that rumble in his chest and vibrate sensitive flesh.

“What a good boy. You love when I put that mouth to use, don't you?”

He responds with closed eyes, tongue slipping between your labia, LED a spinning blue as he tastes you.

“ _Good boy._ ”


	9. the term [making love]; (chloe x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rlly short and rlly raunchy straight up porn with fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year fellow android fuckers !!!!!! enjoy this fic that i could not bring myself to finish

“I'm in love with you.”

“Oh. Is that all?” Chloe presses a warm kiss to your forehead. “I thought there was something wrong.”

You blink over at her, confusion flattening your expression as she smiles, blonde hair striking against black pillows.

“Chlo, that's like… a huge revelation for humans.”

“But I'm not human.” Her subsequent giggle, the scrunch of her nose, the pink of her cheeks all make your heart _leap_. “And just so you know, I've been in love with you since you tripped over your chair and spilled coffee on me at our first meeting.”

You groan, try unsuccessfully to hide your face due to her hands pinning down your wrists. Embarrassment overwhelms the recognition of her statement, the flurry of butterflies and happiness that should ensue.

She straddles you, presses open-mouthed kisses along your pulse, sucks gently on the soft curve of your jaw.

“Chloe, c'mon—”

“Let's celebrate!”

“With sex?”

She works your sleep shirt up and over your head as she speaks. “I prefer the term _making love_.”

“How romantic of you.”

You undress each other, the process full of giggles and teasing touches until finally, _finally_ , she rests bare and beautiful above you. LED flashing a dreamy blue as she drinks you in with ocean eyes, tsunami building behind them.

“You're gorgeous.”

“Says the angel.”

She steals a hurried kiss from hungry lips before trailing soft pecks down your neck, over the swell of a breast, to finally lave a warm tongue over each nipple. A hand parts your legs, fingers circling over your clit—

“Fascinating,” she whispers against sensitive skin. “Human bodies are so warm,” Chloe parts your labia and sinks two fingers into you,

“so soft,” curls and curls and _curls_ the digits before, at your sharp gasp, finding the spot that causes your hips to cant upward,

“so sensitive,” the pressure of her touch increases, as does the ferocity of her mouth. Your breasts burn from sharp sucks and nips, pleasure and pain brewing a cocktail that settles heat in the base of your belly.

“Chlo, I—”

She shushes you, the skin of your breasts slick from saliva. “I know, little dove. I know…”


End file.
